


Before the Battle

by TheEmberGirl



Series: PrUK Week 2018 [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, It's an accident, Mentioned Austria (Hetalia), Mentioned France (Hetalia), Minor Violence, Romantic Gestures, because neither of them seem to know how to be straightforward when it comes to feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 20:38:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14985143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEmberGirl/pseuds/TheEmberGirl
Summary: PrUK Week Day 1: ImpulsesEngland and Prussia talk before a battle, but sometimes actions speak louder than words.





	Before the Battle

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the Seven Years War. Crossposted from tumblr.

Dawn was breaking upon the battlefield and Prussia was already awake and observing the enemy lines, waiting for France or Austria to make their next move. Or perhaps, England thought as he watched her from outside his tent, she hadn’t slept at all, standing guard with a watchful eye throughout the night. White hair flowing over a dark blue uniform Prussia somehow kept impeccably neat and clean. How ironic, the observer didn’t realise she too was being observed. England walked towards her quietly, stealthily, thinking to surprise Prussia, to release some of his own tension as they waited for impending battle. He placed his hands lightly upon her shoulders as he reached her, intending to pull her close and whisper "good morning" in her ear. His words died on his lips as Prussia whirled, throwing his hands off of her shoulders and slamming her fist into his face. It’s a well-aimed punch and England felt his nose breaking.

‘Prussia, stop! Stop! It’s me!’ He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in surrender as Prussia withdrew her fist to strike again, her expression one of fury.

The blind anger faded from her face and recognition, surprise and sheepishness followed each other in quick succession before she hid them with a look of irritation as she lowered her hand.

‘What on earth were you thinking?’ Prussia questioned. ‘Creeping up on someone in the middle of a war?’

England shrugged, and Prussia frowned at the blood running from his nose. Then she sighed and in a rare gesture of concern and gentleness, she tilted his chin and wiped at the blood with the edge of her uniform sleeve, grimacing at the stain it left against the blue.

‘I’d just cleaned this jacket,’ she muttered, looking away from him and focusing her attention on her sleeve.

‘Well it definitely will be a lot bloodier after the battle we’re going to be facing today.’ England said with a dry laugh. ‘Thank you, though.’ He added, as if it was an afterthought.

His nose had stopped bleeding now, and in a few days it’ll be completely healed, just one of the many upsides of being an empire. Beside him Prussia scoffed.

‘Just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be a liability in battle,’ she said in her offhand way of showing she cared.

For a while they stood there at the edge of their camp together, shoulders almost touching, watching for any activity from the enemy camp. Then England remembered what he’d been intending to ask.

‘Have you slept?’

‘Enough,’ Prussia answered insistently.

England peered at her, seeing the shadows under her eyes.

‘Prussia...’ he began, unsure of how to continue. Impulsively he reached a hand toward her arm, wanting to assure her without words.

He stopped himself halfway, the pain in his nose a reminder that it was unwise to touch Prussia without warning when her battle instincts were geared on high alert. Besides, what was he to assure her about? England understood the reasons for Prussia’s sleepless vigilance; not worry, but the call of battle, the desire for victory. Victory in a battle was the greatest uncertainty, how could he possibly assure her of that.

‘You should rest after we win.’ England finished finally.

‘Yes, after we win,’ Prussia echoed without looking away from where their enemies gathered in the distance, a smile curving across her face.

A cruel smile, beautiful and terrifying, like sunlight upon an arcing sword blade. Most people would have reacted with unease, but England merely smiled as well.

‘You think we’ll win.’ It wasn’t a question. Prussia finally looked back at him, meeting his eyes, her gaze seemingly searching.

‘I  _trust_  that we will win,’ she told him like he was being held to account.

Sudden sound and movement drew both their attentions toward the enemy camp.

‘Go rally your troops and I’ll go rally mine; the battle’s about to begin.’ Prussia said facing England. ‘Do try not to die out there today, it would be inconvenient to me as well as your people.’

England laughed lightly, he knew better than to expect anything else from her by now.

‘As long as you do likewise,’ he replied sincerely.

Prussia smiled again, a different smile from the first. A softer smile, if anything about Prussia could be described as soft. As if she’d finally given into an impulse, she brushed the back of her hand against his cheek, her fingers ghosting across his broken nose.

‘I’m glad you understand,’ she said before she walked back into the camp.


End file.
